


Cuckold

by legendarytobes



Series: Gemelo [3]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Season Five, Alternate Universe, Angst, Canon Divergence, F/M, Michaella, Romance, season five
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25366522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legendarytobes/pseuds/legendarytobes
Summary: Ella tries to intercede where "Lucifer" seems to be struggling to question suspects with his old mojo. Things do not go well. In reality,Michaelis trying to hide from Chloe that he can't use desire mojo, as he doesn't have any...
Relationships: Ella Lopez/Michael
Series: Gemelo [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1832677
Comments: 23
Kudos: 139





	Cuckold

**Author's Note:**

> Teen for cursing but also SPOILERS HERE BE SPOILERS AND YOU ARE WARNED!

**Cuckold**

Lucifer has been back six weeks, and things are only going well on the surface. As far as Dan is concerned, Lucifer is the same as he ever was, just as cutting, just as annoying, and just as unwanted. Ella knows this because he complains to her _loudly_ over lunch in the break room about all his feelings on the subject. Ella can’t even blame him. They _all_ hurt about Charlotte, and she still does sometimes, thinking of times when the lawyer would have made collecting the evidence even more rewarding, knowing that Charlotte Richards, esquire, was going to hit a home run with Ella’s work in court. It makes sense that Dan would be angriest, hurt the most, and Ella has definitely had experience with that too.

She was spiraling without God, and he was spiraling without her, and they made the dumbest mistake of her life, one that she knows full well only served to have him use her. But she can get making mistakes. She’s been banned from casinos and _almost_ caught boosting cars---would have been without Ricardo’s keen lookout skills years ago---but Dan’s betrayal still burns sometimes.

Her own idiocy too.

She never told Chloe, and even if the two had been divorced for a while, and Dan had dated and loved Charlotte in between. Oh, and the fact that it was totally, just-the-once, so never again and only time thing, it made Ella feel way guilty that she’d done that. It felt too much like stabbing Chloe in the back.

So, she just lets it lie.

Man, it’s not like Dan mentions it. Even with some progress made in the last almost eight months with Linda, Dan has circled back to his Lucifer hate. Ella can get it in some ways. A not-inconsiderable, wounded part of her is still angry. Still hurt. The apology he gave her has helped some. Honestly, so has the one-day, at the exact right time blackmail picture of him out at _El Toro Bravo_ with the giant sombrero. Even understanding that clearly wherever he was, it wasn’t a place he wanted to be. Whatever secret mission Lucifer (neé Michael apparently) had been on, it had wrecked him totally.

And even if he keeps denying it in those unguarded moments between them when he’s just Michael, Ella thinks her once-and-future friend probably is mafia. If it wasn’t some weird cult abuse gone wrong, it had to be crime stuff, right?

Guy was wrecked.

But none of that had registered with Dan. He still saw the front that Lucifer was putting on, which really shouldn’t have worked as well as it did. After all, the guy was wearing turtle necks! Never would have happened before. Ella understood completely why, with the way he favored his right arm, why would he want the tons of extra buttons that came with a three piece suit with vest and dress shirt. Chloe has to know that it’s weird. Chloe has to know so much is freaking weird now, but that’s not the topic exactly as she bites into her leftovers from a Thai place she likes, even if the curry is never quite hot enough.

Instead, it’s Dan ranting about Lucifer again.

As if all his hate has returned with a vengeance the minute Lucifer showed up, even if this version is quieter, postures less with Dan, and if Dan were paying attention, he would have noticed that he hadn’t been called _douche_ once in weeks.

Wait that sounded wrong.

Oh, and Dan hadn’t had his pudding pilfered except twice (both times totally her fault, she’d been dying for a chocolate pick me up twice last week for reasons).

But Dan was just maybe seeing what he wanted to. What the unis and the other officers were seeing. Lucifer was still British (around everyone but her), still moved with a spring in his step (and how he managed that when the times late in the evening where he collapsed in her office with his arm seizing up, Ella didn’t know), and he was still effusive with his stories.

But he was just less of these things, not lesser, but muted.

Ella could tell that Chloe knew this, could see it in the grim set of the other woman’s shoulder and the way she sometimes jerked her head back like she’d been slapped when the little things weren’t right---paperwork immaculately done, a bit of sexual innuendo and low hanging fruit left untouched, the thousand yard stare when Lucifer thought no one was looking. Yeah, Chloe knew.

And maybe six months in hell, as Lucifer had put it, could change someone that badly, but it was all off, and all wrong because Chloe was so upset, even if she tried to be perky and relaxed at Tribe Nights and failed even there to lie enough to them or to herself.

Yet Dan hadn’t noticed.

“And, I mean, this isn’t even about Charlotte, it’s not!”

She nodded, biting into her slightly soggy but still yummy fried tofu and sweet chili sauce side dish. “Right.”

“Exactly!” Dan continued, as if he needed much encouragement. “It’s the girls. Chloe and I aren’t married, and I get that.”

Ella blushed and dug deeper into her lunch. She certainly hoped so or she’d be the other woman. God, she had made some terrible decisions without the Big Guy in her life. Dan was below her club phase but definitely above Bob the Turtle, RIP.

“Okay, then what is it?”

“It’s that she was so depressed when he took off because he always does it. I can’t be the only one who remembers when Chloe almost fucking died, and Lucifer goes to Vegas to get married.”

Ella wanted to explain that Candy for whatever weird reason had been a business arrangement, and that she’d seen those two together and it had been all friendship between them clearly. Still, the two weeks of disappearing kind of was a big hint that Lucifer would be likely to rabbit again. But Dan wouldn’t even believe her.

He never did.

“And Trixie! She’s been even more upset. Maze started offering to sit her an extra day a week. I mean, I come home one day from work in June and find her and Maze doing all this knife training. Maze has the balls to tell me that the knife throwing---the _knife throwing_ my eleven-year-old is doing makes her feel better because she’s pretending the target is Lucifer Fucking Morningstar. Fun fantasy, sure, but now my sixth grader is part ninja!”

Ella chuckled at that. “First, that’s so cool. I want Maze to teach me something too! Also, uh, maybe one day to remember my name is _not_ ‘Ellen,’ but that’s not going so well. Anyway, it’s good Trixie can defend herself. I mean, I have four brothers. I can’t exactly karate chop my way out of a problem, but you bet I can put an asshole in a headlock if I had to.”

“I have a sister,” Dan said. “I never bullied her.”

Ella shrugged. “They didn’t, exactly.” Well, they made fun of her when she started admitting to seeing Rae Rae, but they’d never touch her. That was different. Noogies and wet willies and the occasional wrestling match to try and be like The Rock were different. Ella was a little surprised Dan and his sister had never been like that. Weren’t all brothers? “It was more like they wanted me to be able to take care of myself too. Oh, and the brass knuckles Alejandro gave me for my sweet sixteen.”

Dan blanched at her. “You know…”

She rolled her eyes back at him before there was a lecture. “Detroit is so not Dallas, dude. Brass knuckles were sweet. And I had this one date where things went south and totally came in handy and we were talking about Trixie?”

“Anyway, even if Lucifer weren’t a loose cannon, and even if he didn’t get people like Joan killed, and even if he actually weren’t an asshole---”

“He’s not an asshole, exactly,” Ella said. “It sucked he disappeared for six months with like no freaking notice. Not cool. But he’s not an asshole.”

“You all baby him,” Dan said. “He’ll get bored. _Again_. Wander off. _Again_. And next time Maze will cheer Trixie up by teaching her how to use a flamethrower!”

Ella considered that. To be fair, it would be wicked cool to try. Although Maze seemed mostly into knives, and none of that would make Dan feel better. “I get that, but maybe just have a little faith he’s staying this time?”

“Worse. He’s like that cat that keeps coming back. I was thrilled he was gone. If he had just _stayed away_ forever, then everything would have been fine! But when he leaves, I’ll have to try and put Chloe and Trixie back together, and it breaks them every time he does this. I mean, talk about a real douche move.”

Ella nodded and pushed her Tupperware away. Her stomach roiled. Dan wasn’t wrong. Lucifer wasn’t good at staying around, and he was terrible at being honest about anything. Even now, he was cagey---to be like way too nice about it---about where he’d been and what had happened to him. With his track record, there was every reason to think Lucifer might bolt again. Ella wasn’t sure she could take it if he did, and it hadn’t occurred to her until Dan’s latest rant that it might happen.

“He wouldn’t go?”

Dan snorted. “You asking or telling me?”

Ella stood and gathered up her lunch, putting the pieces back together and back in the bag. She’d take it to her lab to make sure she got it home. She’d made that mistake just once, and the fuzz that had grown in her Tupperware container in the back of the precinct fridge had both smelled gnarly and been so cool under a microscope. She was pretty sure there had been some subspecies of E. Coli in it that wasn’t even supposed to _be_ in California.

“I’m saying it. He’s here, he and Chloe are totally meant to be---”

“Hey!” Dan barked.

She frowned a little, feeling guilty. “Okay, so I mean you two did make an adorable kid with great taste in t-shirts. I’m just saying that Deckerstar is finally getting a shot, and that we solve crimes better with him and that confession mojo he has, and it’s gonna be fine!”

Of course, that would be the time that Lucifer stormed into the break room with Chloe trailing behind him. Ella swallowed hard at Chloe’s stare. She’d seen the detective level it at a due at _Lux_ the one time they’d even tried to go there for Tribe Night last May. That dick had hit on her by saying he was glad that the owner was gone and she was on the market again and Decker had decked him. Dude had been left spitting teeth.

Totally earned, still.

“Detective---” Lucifer started, and Ella winced a little at him working so hard to keep up the charade. Dude needed to get over it and just be honest. For once. “I merely thought it would be better if we stuck to protocol.”

Okay that one even Dan noticed. The other guy burst out laughing bitterly. “Since when? Also protocol would mean keeping the rest of the team up-to-date before you go out and do something crazy _and_ half-assed.”

Lucifer glared at him. “Well, Daniel, I don’t believe I asked for your opinion. Pretty sure I never have.”

Chloe stalked around him and glared up at Lucifer. “I don’t get this. I really don’t. I know you had a hard time on your uh trip. Believe me, I do.”

Lucifer’s expression grew pinched and stony. “You say that, but you can’t possibly fathom it, Detective. When I say that I’m a changed man, I wish you’d understand that. Part of that includes a realization that I’ve been rather crap at police work.”

“Solve rate doesn’t say that,” Ella objected.

“And I prefer to try things by the book this time. If no one else has a consultant who can wrangle out effortless confessions with a look, then perhaps it would be in poor taste for you to as well.”

Chloe threw her hands up in the air and started to pace in the tight confines of the room. “Do you even hear yourself? This is a wetworks specialist for the Falcones. He isn’t just our main suspect for _this_ murder, but there’s a chance he’s linked to an active kidnapping case. Have a weird moral stance later. There’s some poor seventeen-year-old abducted for God knows what---”

“Oh, I assure you Father doesn’t pay attention to the trivialities.”

Dan shook his head. “And you’d think you’d come back and drop the crazy but of course not. Look, I hate your ass.”

“Yes, got that memo,” Lucifer replied, tone clipped.

“But the one thing you do that _actually_ helps us, you won’t anymore? Then why the fuck are you even here?” Dan asked. He looked to Chloe. “Look, let me take a crack at Mulroney. I had a partner early on when I was just made detective who used to go to him as a CI informant. I might have a few bits of dirt to leverage with.”

Chloe was still glaring at Lucifer, giving him the kind of stare that he tended to wear Before, back when he’d leave the interrogation room with subjects screaming incoherently about Satan. Which, weird, because Lucifer had been at least very committed to his role, but even now, Ella couldn’t find him scary.

Just frustrating.

“Yeah, maybe we can do that. That’d be good.” She shook her head back at Lucifer. “We will be talking about this tonight.” One hand strayed up to the weird bullet necklace she wore. Lucifer had gotten it for her for her birthday that year of his and her big Vegas escapade. Ella hadn’t been around to get the story, but she really didn’t get where the _used_ bullet had come from. “I don’t want you around only for your mojo, true, but this isn’t about egos or anything else. This is just about what helps catch the bad guys and save lives. You can’t…is it really fair to never use that again.”

Lucifer shrugged. “Life is distinctly unfair, Chloe. And my reasons for using or not using my, erm, technique are my own.”

Chloe sighed. “And we used to share things. Dan, let’s go.”

They others didn’t waste any time after that and rushed out the door fast, like road runner fast.

Ella trotted to the break room door and locked it behind her. She so didn’t need any stray unis wandering into what was just going to end as a fight with Lucifer…Michael…whoever he felt like being today.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

Michael scowled at her---he was really good at that---and sat down. Setting his bad arm on the table, he tried to ignore her altogether, preferring to stare at the coffee machine.

“That’s not very mature, _culo_.”

Michael arched an eyebrow at her, and when he spoke, his accent was American (and it was still too weird to think of it as his own) but his tone was as full of himself as Lucifer could get on his most self-involved days. “I don’t owe you anything, Ella.”

She flinched at that but not for long. If he thought he could get to her with a few well-placed barbs, then he’d never had Alejandro and Caesar spend hours mocking her and asking her if she saw Houdini and Tupac and, yeah, even Capone in the corners of their apartment. Michael would have to try a hell of a lot harder to be mean to her to scare her off.

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. Ella knew that at her size, it didn’t really have an effect on a dude as large as Michael, but she wanted to believe it could. “You don’t owe me, not really. I give you the lab to hide in because I know you’re embarrassed about whatever happened. I would totally do it no matter what because---”

Michael’s scowl deepened, and seriously, it had to be a trick of light but for a minute they seemed almost gold. “Because you’re pitying me.”

“Today? Not one bit, comes with being a real PoS to one of my best friends. But I don’t pity you period, Michael. I know what it’s like to just need rest. To not be able to do something because your limb _won’t_ cooperate and, trust me, I know more about being stared at even by my family than you ever will.”

“I really doubt that.”

She snorted and stomped over to the table. Ella took a seat as far away from him as possible but still sat down. She wanted to be up close and personal for reaming him out. Clearly, giving him space for a couple of weeks to tell Chloe _anything_ wasn’t working.

“I know you and Amenadiel only sort of allude to your dad…”

“God,” Michael pointed out.

“So we’re back to that?”

“My dad is all-powerful and gives no one any chance to have an appeal. It’s something you can’t possibly understand, Ella.”

“I can understand your parents making a lot of decisions for you without asking cause you’re too young and they know better, even if they think all of it is because of _locuras_.” She shook her head and forced herself not to tear up. She would _not_ think about all the therapy and, uh, the exorcism that so didn’t work when she was seventeen. “So, no, you don’t get to corner the market on shitty families or impossible dads or even annoying older brothers. It’s different, not like yours is more.”

“Mine is definitely more.”

She frowned and it clicked then. Ella had been wrong about the mob thing and the stray thoughts of witness protection. Definitely wrong about INS. But what if he’d tried to reconcile with his family. What if…

Concerned, she reached out and touched the back of his right hand. He stiffened but didn’t pull away.

“You did go home. You really were doing business for your dad, weren’t you?”

Michael snorted. “Everything I end up doing in some way is because Dad set it up. Exactly. His plans and my hopeless struggle dealing with them, yeah.”

“One of your brothers did…they _hurt_ you.”

Michael clenched his jaw and looked away. He didn’t speak for a very long time. “I’m going to turn into a broken record but don’t tell anyone. I said my family sucked. They really do, and the biggest asshole among my brothers is the reason I’m struggling now.”

“If he like broke your arm---”

“He did a lot,” Michael replied. “But he’s, well, he _was_ the favorite, so he only got in so much trouble. It’s not like he’s the one who has to live with it.”

Ella had jerk brothers sometimes, and she thought she could understand that. But she knew that for all their nastiness as kids and Ricardo’s shadiness and _flojo_ nature even now, that all four would have her back when it mattered, especially Jay. There was no way that they’d hurt her, let alone maim her. No wonder Michael had put up such an elaborate persona for years. She knew he had family issues, but that one of his brothers would hurt him like this…that he _had_ and left Michael too scared to even tell Chloe.

“I hate your family.”

Michael offered her a small half smile, a rare quirk of the lips. “Welcome to the club.”

“But I don’t pity you. I just…I know it’s hard to feel you can’t do what everyone else can do. I mean, it took me till I was about twelve before I could not just walk and run like I used to. It took forever to get back into dance club.”

Michael frowned down at her. “You’re a dancer?”

Ella blinked. That wasn’t right. She could understand him letting go of the persona bit by bit, and she could even get as dumb as it was and bad for him to hide whatever pain his family had doled out at him from Chloe. Trauma made you change habits. She totally got that. But he would remember Vegas. It was one of their dumber stunts together.

“You know,” she said, “With you gone so long I half thought about going to Vegas. I can’t cause me and Vegas? No good, nothing good ever comes of that, but I figured maybe you ran away there again. I mean how is Candy, anyway?”

“What?” he asked, blinking at her with no recognition at all. “Are you talking about something from the vending machine? I mean, they’re low on those donut things that are actually pretty good but…”

Ella frowned and pulled her hand back a bit but didn’t completely take it away from his hand. It was possible that whatever ass kicking his brother had given him had cause some weird memory loss, but Michael should know she danced and not just cause of the Vegas thing. After she and Abuela Rosa had come back from the opera, she’d told him how much she’d loved it, how she’d only seen shows back a few times in Detroit as Christmas presents her parents had saved up all year for and how seeing _Guys and Dolls_ at the Fisher Theater as a kid had blown her mind.

And he definitely would know all about Vegas and Candy.

What the hell had his brother and even possibly his dad done to him. How many other holes were there?

A smaller, more pesky voice that always screamed at her when the puzzle pieces didn’t fit on a case, was blaring now. But the idea that Michael was a literal imposter was impossible. He didn’t just _kind of_ look like Lucifer, he was Lucifer, everything the same. Besides, Amenadiel, the few times they’d crossed paths, had said he had a ton of brothers and sisters but he’d never mentioned any twins there. It just wasn’t right. Either Michael had memory swiss cheese from being attacked back at home or he was a liar.

Neither option settled well with her, and both were things he had to tell Chloe.

Like yesterday.

“Ella?” he asked, regarding her with what she wanted to believe was genuine concern in his dark eyes. “Are you okay? You trailed off.”

She swallowed and filed everything away. Her mind would pick through it more as it always did when she had a case that just wasn’t squaring up. She would figure out the answer. No puzzle ever resisted her talents for long. “I was just…yeah, I danced. I don’t have time now and I’m not like a professional, but I did it a lot in college even with clubs and stuff and then when I first moved to L.A. and before I got into this precinct where all the cases are crazycakes, I had time to take a hip-hop and a modern dance class at a studio for fun.” She shrugged. “I’m too short to ever be really good, but I wanted so much to get a scholarship for it in high school.” She laughed again and sighed. “Doesn’t really happen to girls who still look like middle schoolers at seventeen.”

Michael nodded. “Fly kicks right? The Rockettes are all tall.”

Ella frowned again. Why was Vegas a damn blank? “Yeah, they are, and you all have to be the same size to make it work. So, here I am, the best forensic in L.A. I just…I don’t feel bad for you, but I like…I get it. I was there.”

He considered that. “You got better.”

“Maybe if you looked into surgery or something. Not to be all about the money and stuff, but you’re loaded. You could probably ask any doctor in the country at least if not some fancy guy out in Oxford or Paris or something to come and evaluate you.”

Michael grimaced and moved his arm away. “They can’t help.”

“Oh,” she said, realizing that of course in the six months since he’d gone, had the living crap beaten out of him, Michael had tried to find help. She glared back at him and cursed in a fast litany of Spanish. Another weird thing when he didn’t laugh or feign affront at her. He spoke Spanish well. She’d used it with him before to gossip about sexcapades last year when Chloe was clearly over it. Shaking her head, Ella switched back to English. “I’d grab a baseball bat and Alejandro’s old brass knuckles myself and give your brother a piece of my mind.”

He quirked his head at her and…it was weird. It wasn’t an expression she’d ever seen on his face aimed at her before. Oh, she’d seen it a lot especially her first year at the precinct, the way Lucifer had stared at Chloe like she was on the world’s tallest pedestal. And, yes, Chloe was both really cool and hot. Ella had seen _Hot Tub High School_ , and Chloe had been a lot of guys’ first crush for a reason. Not her first crush, that honor was totally reserved for her big fan phase for _Tomb Raider_ movies back in the day, but yeah, she got why Lucifer had always looked at Chloe like she was amazing.

Her friend totally was.

But he didn’t look at _Ella_ like this. So, clearly, she’d been working too hard.

Michael recovered a little and seemed to grow more reserved. “It’s nice you’d want to. Trust me, all my siblings are a lot tougher than you.”

“Dude, I’m from Detroit. I’ve basically seen it all.”

Michael smiled again and despite the clusterfuck of the last thirty minutes, Ella was proud she’d made him do it twice just today. “Yes, well, I’ve been to hell and back.”

“You’ve skipped Detroit in the dead of winter. It’s the worst.”

“Maybe,” he said.

“Why won’t you do the mojo thing? I mean I never really figured out how that worked. Mesmerizing or hypnotism or whatever, but you were really good at it.”

“I can’t anymore,” he said.

“Well, if you have some moral thing against it…I have to side with Dan and Chloe both. It helps a lot of people!”

“That dullard is about the least helpful person on earth.”

Ella had to laugh a little. Maybe some things never changed, just evolved. At least Michael was insulting Dan again. A world where he didn’t do that at all felt downright unnatural. “Then you should try.”

“You don’t understand. I’m being _literal_. I can’t do it.”

Ella blinked and considered him again, taking in his slanted posture, his rigid arm. The missing memories. Whatever neurolinguistic trick he did, maybe that had been beaten out of him too. “Oh, _lo no sé_. I didn’t know. You need to tell people, dude. I…please, I don’t like lying to Chloe at all, and this is tearing her up. I…she’ll understand.”

Michael stood abruptly then, and she watched as his posture changed, at the way he forced himself to stand upright and make his right arm look as strong as his left. “She won’t, Ella. She really won’t. I…” he hesitated then and stared at the floor. “This weekend? Do we still have plans for the database project for the LAPD? I’d like to start that if you’re still into it. I can’t…I want to fit in here, I do, and I can’t do that with a gift of gab anymore. But our idea about the financial files has promise, you know?”

“Well, you’re lucky, I have the whole weekend free. You can choose whenever.”

“Saturday I promised to go with Trixie and Chloe to the zoo.”

Ella snickered. “Will you wear cashmere? Any goats there will be pretty upset. Also, the heat wave is still crazy here. You might want to try actually dressing down for once.”

“Maybe I will, but Sunday? I’ll come over and we can start the coding and the planning. I could use the distraction.”

Ella sighed, feeling her stomach squirm a bit. “Are you still…do you do deals?”

When Michael answered again, he’d affected his former accent and Luciferness. It was giving Ella whiplash, so she had no idea how he was keeping track of it. Since he wasn’t able to even remember things about her or his own weird ass short marriage, she assumed it wasn’t doing him any good. At all.

“Miss Lopez, haven’t you heard? I’m the master of deals. In fact, I invented them. What do you desire?”

She rolled her eyes at the act. As much as she’d always enjoyed joking with Lucifer and rambling with him, she was beginning to like the actual guy underneath it all. The honesty of it. It hurt when he slipped back into the ruse with her. But he was headed back to the bull pen and he wasn’t ready to be open about all his trauma yet.

“You need to tell Chloe. I know I’ve asked before and stuff, but she’s hurting really bad, and after six months thinking you were never coming back? She _deserves_ more than that.”

Michael grimaced. “I shall endeavor to try. I was unsure of how to explain all of it.”

Ella nodded. “So, come over, we’ll start the database thing, but you have to tell Chloe how bad it all really is. I think you need to do it by the end of the month. The longer this stretches out, the worst it hurts her, and that’s not okay. I’m her ride-or-die over here and I can’t let you keep doing it to her.”

His jaw clenched but eventually he gave her a brisk nod. “Understandable. I shall try, Miss Lopez.”

“Hate to be obvious and go all the most well-known Yoda quote on you cause, you know, I know all the quotes, but dude, ‘do or do not, there is no try.’ By November, you have to talk to her, Michael. Please.”

“As you wish,” he said, returning to the bull pen.

Ella stayed behind and set her head in her hands, unsure of how things had gotten so complicated, and trying really hard not to think about how her stomach was _still_ flip-flopping from the way he’d looked at her.

Nope, _nothing bueno_ ever came from that.

**

Michael knocked on the door to Ella’s apartment and leaned heavily against the wall to his left as he waited for her to answer. He was more tired than he wanted to admit from traipsing around the zoo all day with Chloe Decker and Trixie, who was admittedly a cute kid. If kids were his thing---with his family, he had _no_ idea how even Amenadiel could hope for better, that trying to be a father with their own as reference would work out---but if they _were_ , he found he quite enjoyed her. But the zoo had been massive, and walking miles over a tarmac was not meant for him. Not anymore.

How low he had fallen and all without having to actually Fall. The Sword of God, the leader of His armies, and the Defender of the Church had been the finest warrior the Silver City had ever seen. It didn’t matter if he’d _almost_ lost to Lucifer (and in reality had won the battle only to lose the war) or if Amenadiel fancied himself the Fist of God. Once, Michael had been the very best the Host had to offer.

Now, he could barely make it through a day of human activities. And he was paying for it now. His arm was killing him, his wing was cramping under the surface of his skin, and even his right leg felt tired and stiff from overcompensating.

That was the reason Ella found him half crumpled to the wall when she opened her door. He appreciated that she was trying not to stare at him wide-eyed or with any type of pity, but he caught the flash of concern there, even as he tried to straighten himself for her. He’d definitely be coming up with a pre-text to avoid consulting on Monday. There was no way he’d be up to snuff to fake being “Lucifer” then.

Okay, he was beginning to admit to himself that his plan to get revenge was failing miserably. Samael would never even know the difference, and he was exhausted by the lies and physical effort it took to keep up the charade. It was just a Hell of a very different making, so acute and awkward, that he’d almost rather back in the Silver City, not that his pathetic version of wings could even _hope_ to do that ever.

Almost.

But there were perks of earth even now.

Perks of actually interacting with humans enough to get attached. And Ella was oddly turning out to be the highlight of it so far.

“Are you okay?” she asked, opening her door wide. “Also, sorry about leaving you waiting, I was doing a raid on an elven lair and couldn’t hear you knock over my headset.”

Michael nodded as if that made any sense. He wasn’t sure what she was talking about exactly, and elves weren’t even real.

“That’s fine. I just…a little tired, you know?”

She eyed him and chuckled. “Not too good for jeans and a t-shirt now, are you?”

“I got a few things for the zoo because Trixie wanted the petting zoo part and I didn’t see the point of getting drool on cashmere no…” he smiled wryly at her. “Or, you know, making the goats upset. Wouldn’t want to be head-butted.”

Ella laughed and gestured to her place. It was small and that wasn’t surprising. Michael had lived in many cities in his forty years on earth and, having spent most of the 80s in Manhattan, and he’d had a decent job with a stock brokerage in the accounting end but everything there still cost and arm and a…well, _a lot_. Still, Ella had decorated the combined kitchen/den before him cozily if frenetically with various posters from _Star Wars, Star Trek,_ and _The Avengers_. Turning toward her kitchen with a few different boxes of sugary cereals he assumed were for kids---that rabbit one had a name that reminded him of Chloe’s daughter and that was, perhaps, still a questionable name for a child---and bright colorful bowls in neon shades. The couch was more of a loveseat in the space and facing the prime real estate by her flat screen was a chair that looked almost like it was built for a cockpit.

Did it have speakers in the head part?

“Ooh, I don’t guess you game, huh?” she asked.

“No, never been my thing.”

Ella’s eyes widened and she seemed to remember his injuries. “Oh, that was such a dumb thing to ask.”

“It wasn’t. I just didn’t know the chairs for that were quite extensive.”  
  


He turned around to the wall behind him and found a rack of DVDs of films and TV shows that fit her love of all things pop culture. If he were being honest with himself, he wasn’t really a huge fantasy fan, considering most of his life seemed impossible and unrealistic to humans anyway. However, she had a few forensics TV shows too, and he’d always liked that _Bones_ one. So that was promising.

He stilled when he noticed the picture on the wall of the Virgin Mary. Right, faith. How odd that she could have that, especially with her job. Ella Lopez saw the worst of the worst every day, had to dig down into it and study it at a scientific level. How could she possibly hope in Father’s plans with the daily reminder that either his Father had none or no longer cared about how they played out.

“I…are you okay?”

He shrugged and sat down on the loveseat. On the far wall under the movie posters was her desk set up with two folding chairs and a triple monitor set. Michael shuddered a little. He was in no shape to sit folded up like that after the zoo.

“I…yeah, I forgot you were religious for a moment.”

“You liked the St. Michael image.”

He sighed. More accurately, he _wished_ he was the graven image she had on her desk, so proud and strong. But that hadn’t been true since before the Garden of Eden. He didn’t mind anything about his half-brother or about Mary either, poor girl had gotten a raw deal, not even been asked about her role in everything.

But yeah, sometimes he could forget that Ella believed when he’d run out of any compassion left for his father.

Or most of the Host.

“I do…I was being rude,” he said. “The place is nice.”

“It’s tiny, I know, but the LAPD only pays so much and I like it fine and it has a bedroom and not that you need to see that but I have a nice bathroom and it’s big enough for a tub that Margaret likes and---”

He frowned. “Oh, do you have a roommate or a girlfriend?”

Ella blushed and it was oddly pleasing to see. “Oh! You forgot her too?”

“Too?”

Ella sighed. “Never mind. I mean, mostly I always told Chloe about Margaret because you seemed super busy with Eve and it wasn’t that interesting to talk about chicken care and stuff.”

“Excuse me?”

Ella rolled her eyes and gestured to her hall. “I have a bath tub chicken. It works kind of. I mean I read about it on a blog and without small group and bible study and mass and Wednesday worship…I had _a lot_ more free time last year. So I…she’s nice!”

Michael, who assumed Ella was making this up, stood even against the protesting ache over his right side. He was grateful that Ella looked more toward the hallway and ignored the way he was so tired that he even limped a bit. However, she had to be wrong. Who in Creation had a bath tub chicken?

But low and behold when she opened the door, there was a chicken with dark russet feathers flapping wings that wouldn’t ever let it really fly (join the club) and squawking at him.

Ella shut the door after that and led him back to the couch. “Um, she’s shy with new people.”

Michael laughed and slumped down into the loveseat. He assumed at first that Ella would take one of the folding chairs by the desk to start programming. Or even the ridiculous gaming console chair. Instead, she slid next to him and, honestly, he was so large that even with her petite frame there wasn’t really enough space on the couch. Her thigh, so warm and soft, rested against his, no matter how he tried to scrunch left.

“You definitely look relaxed at least,” she commented. “I approve of the Ziggy Stardust t-shirt.”

“Yes, well, I have some taste in music. Even if I’m mostly into Jazz, it’s hard to resist some classics like Bowie or the Stones.” He smirked back at hers, at the little fat tabby with angel wings of all things. A swirling script below it said “all cats go to heaven too.”

Michael frowned a little at that. It wasn’t true, but saying that wouldn’t do anything but hurt her feelings and he didn’t want that.

“You have a chicken?” he pressed, trying to get past the weird silence that had settled between them. Ella talked. A lot. It was so odd to have her momentarily caught out. “Because a blog said so?”

“I needed a hobby and my brain was rotting with reality game show reruns. Margaret’s better than my clubbing too much or, well, the turtle idea.”

“What happened to your turtle?”

“Margaret,” she said, shrugging.

He grimaced at that. “Yes, but I just wouldn’t think a bath tub chicken would be something…why not a puppy or a cat?”

She shrugged. “Back home in Detroit, my abuela had the apartment above us. She had lived there a long time, like grandfather claused her way into good rent and, well, getting away with stuff. She had a little sanctuary up on the roof. She’d take in pigeons who were hurt, rehabilitate them, let the go, you know? I used to help her when I was little. It was fun. Margaret wasn’t ever hurt, but, I dunno…” she trailed off and blushed again. “I like birds. Wings are pretty cool really. The whole way they get off the ground at least makes sense. You think of a honey bee and science still can’t figure out why they get off the ground, which is pretty crazy if you ask me, considering how long we’ve had domestic apiaries.”

Michael’s eyes widened at her. She was so hard to follow sometimes but intriguing when she rambled. And she liked wings. That shouldn’t have warmed his heart as it did. He was _hardly_ some mangy pigeon, his ruined wing aside, but it still did.

“Well, Margaret seemed at least enthusiastic,” he admitted. “I must confess when we went to the zoo, Trixie liked the monkeys best, especially those ones from like that show _Friends_.”

Ella, being Ella of course, rattled off the name and then its scientific one with aplomb. “Capuchin and all that. Yeah, they’re cute. I think of them as _Outbreak_ monkeys cause of that one movie about the virus outbreak? It was pretty cool. Freaked me out about going to movies for weeks after but it was a big thing that inspired me with liking medicine and science too as a kid.”

“That’s good,” he offered. “We did pass by a raptor habitat, which I think I liked best. They had a beautiful red-tailed hawk…those tail feathers were exquisite. I liked it much more than the petting zoo at the end. Truth be told an alpaca spit on me.”

Ella laughed and slapped his knee. “Dude, I’d have paid to see that!”

“Well, I’m done with blackmail evidence for you, Miss Lopez,” he said slipping into his twin’s fussy Britishness just for the moment. “But,” he said, easing back into his own accent, “It was nice. I…things are easier not at the precinct.”

“Because it’s not something you did before so there aren’t expectations.”

Michael nodded. “I think that’s it.”

“What did Chloe like best?”

“I think the cheetahs. Definitely wasn’t a fan of the bat cave exhibit,” Michael said, a bit confused as to why. They weren’t even a dangerous or very large species. But she’d definitely been uncomfortable spying them and given him a few hard looks there the whole time as if she’d expected _him_ to freak out too. “Maybe not really the birds either.”

“Cheetahs are really pretty. Did you know that zoos give them support dogs, usually Golden retrievers because they get nervous? Isn’t that sweet? But good choice.”

“Yes, they are beautiful animals.”

Ella nodded and swallowed hard. Had she noticed how close they were sitting finally too. “I mean, it’s really fine, you know. I can be your fellow bird nerd. Like I said, bird wings are so much more interesting than like bug wings. Although bat wings have their cool quirks and…”

He wasn’t sure what idiotic impulse propelled him forward. She was just being herself, which was peppy and energetic and talking a mile a minute and being so adorable about bats and bees of all odd things, which was also so very her to see the, if not beauty, then the curiosity in everything. But he couldn’t help himself.

Michael leaned forward and kissed her. And, for a long, pleasing moment, Ella responded and he found her tongue, soft and inviting, as it caressed his own. He’d never done this, not in forty plus years on earth, and when he suddenly felt his jeans grow uncomfortably tight…that was when Ella seemed to get ahold of herself and jump off him like he’d scalded her.

“What the hell, Michael?” she gestured to him, seemed to notice that his jeans were tented and oh that explained a lot, and just turned as red as a tomato and stared at the ground. “I…we are _not_ doing this.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, standing with some effort and wishing his t-shirt were baggier so that it could hide his shame. It hadn’t been…he hadn’t really meant it, he’d just been so wrapped up in her and then…dear Dad did he have to add humiliation onto humiliation too? “It was wrong. I didn’t…I should never have tried something without asking first.”

Ella eyed him, finally daring to flit her eyes to his face, even if they seemed to stray a bit too long over his hips before she did that much. “No, I should have not been into it. I was going to…but it felt _nice_ , and that’s the whole problem. I’m taking advantage of a really messed up situation. You went home, got really badly hurt, and you’re dealing with trauma and you are upset because things with Chloe are hard…” she blanched at that. “Ugh, you know what I mean. But I can’t be your substitute or a way to work through your issues. See Linda again for once. I mean, sit down and _please_ talk with Chloe. You think I’m understanding. She’s the best! She always gets me, even when I had to explain about…never mind,” she finished without explaining exactly what bothered her so much.

Fair.

He hardly deserved to know that much about her now, especially when he’d ruined their trust.

“I…Ella, I’m so sorry. I’ll head out now and---”

“Just tell Chloe. You promise me, by Halloween you figure it out. Go see Linda, get a plan, and be there for her. You just want to hide, and you can’t do that anymore. I won’t hurt Chloe, and, honestly, I know you guys. You’re Deckerstar. It’s like totally epic! Okay, maybe you all could be less _Romeo and Juliet_ and more _Fifty Shades_ going forward but once you work it out, it’ll be great and meant to be and she’s my friend!”

Michael nodded, and she was right. If he were going to make a life here, it had to be with Chloe Decker. That was the point. It wasn’t even truly about what he’d prefer, but more about The Plan. Samael had taken his life and his strength and his Dad-given position as the Sword of God (couldn’t be defective and be that, could he). He was here to take the miracle that Dad had apparently made for his idiot betrayer of a twin.

That was all.

Except, nothing was like what he’d planned. He couldn’t…he was hesitant to ever go forward with Chloe Decker, made excuses not just to avoid desiring others but to giving into hers as well. She was an innocent in this, after all, and he was still one of the Host for all his deceit. He would not…not under false pretenses, and the more their differences in personality and taste emerged, the less Michael would have even wanted to anyway. In truth, Samael’s miracle tended to annoy him.

But not Ella, and he’d managed to fuck things up even more than he already had since he’d come to L.A. seven weeks ago.

“I’ll talk to her, I promise.” He sighed, and despite logic, reached out and cupped her cheek. “I’m so sorry I messed up today, Ella, but I’m not sorry about how I feel.”

She backed away and swiped at her eyes. “No, I can’t. I…” Ella hurried off then with surprising speed for a human, slamming her bathroom door behind her. Michael could tell because that weird chicken was squawking all over again. “Just leave. Get out!’

Michael sighed and limped to the door, and for now, his right side and his busted wing didn’t hurt nearly as much as his heart.

This time, the mess he’d made of his life had only superficially to do with Samael, and Michael had fuck all idea what to do about it.


End file.
